down, and as I'm not after the rest of you, you will only get him a few
days safety at the price of a term in prison."

"Well, I've got to risk it," said the man.

Peter turned and walked away. He went down town to the Blacketts.

"I want you to carry the matter to the courts," he told the father.
"These men deserve punishment, and if you'll let me go on with it, it
shan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'll
probably get some money out of it."

Blackett gave his assent. So too did Patrick Milligan, and "Moike"
Dooley. They had won fame already by the deaths and wakes, but a "coort
case" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, and
warrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, and
the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on the
following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,
nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in the
neighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief,
and held a joint _soirée_ on their front stoop.

"Shure, it's mighty hard for Mrs. Dooley, that she's away!" said one.
"She'll be feeling bad when she knows what she's missed."

The next morning, Peter, the two doctors, the Blacketts, the Milligans,
Dooley, the milk quintet, and as many inhabitants of the "district" as
could crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffs
and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the